


so disarming darling

by fyxxen



Series: the gift that keeps giving [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Cults, Off-screen Character Death, Other, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyxxen/pseuds/fyxxen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Banshees, blood magic, and looks that kill</p>
            </blockquote>





	so disarming darling

**Author's Note:**

> see notes at end for details on detailed warnings (spoilers, kinda). non-graphic violence, but many mentions of blood & murder

When she was born, the nuns told her parents she would only bring sorrow.

Which really made no sense, because she wasn’t born in a Catholic hospital and Beacon Hills isn’t a particularly religious place, on the surface, at least.

She took to death quickly– it wasn’t until the Darach that she understood, began to understand why it held such a sway for her. She never bothered asking her family if there was a history of banshees in the bloodline. Didn’t really seem to matter after the Darach.

Her parents said her hair was red because God had anointed her in the blood of nonbelievers, so that she could pass amongst them to bring them to the light.

~+~  


It wasn’t surprising that the pack never asked about Lydia’s parents being around. In the beginning, they didn’t seem to see her as a valuable asset. It changed some after they realized how helpful language skills and efficient Molotov-making would be, but Allison was the main reason she was integrated so easily.

Scott may have been helpful, in retrospect. If Lydia had been a wolf, if Peter’s “gift” had taken, she’s positive the stench of arousal would have deadened her senses early on. It made him easy to manipulate, in the end.

After Allison died, Lydia spent a week or so with her parents, in the forest. It helped to clear her mind, to plan out her next steps. Also in retrospect, it became clear that wolves weren’t the only ones with anchors— the world .  


~+~  


Likely unsurprising to anyone who has considered what a boon magic would be, Lydia discovered early on how much cheaper it was to harness magic as a beauty product. Elizabeth Báthory had the right idea.

Lydia’s mother wanted to use Lydia’s survival as a sign from the Heavens that Lydia was The Survivor, the one who would bring the light to the world. As if Lydia’s survival was only important to the movement– for The Family.

Two weeks later, Lydia buried her parents in a shallow grave in the middle of a forest not too far from their house. The pack rarely patrolled there, so Lydia took her time bathing in their blood. (Lydia never did believe her mother much.)

Allison complimented her rosy complexion the next day at school, glad she was dealing with the Darach reasonably well. The Family swallowed the disappearance of the Martins without a complaint. Lydia had always been the important part of the family, anyways. The police never came knocking because of the extensive contacts the Martins held in Europe— it made sense that they would be spending more time in Paris,

They were likely off with the Whittemores, anyways.

  
~+~  


The only one who was ever unsettled around her, by her, was Derek. Lydia thought he was probably the only one with a frame of reference for a killer drive… He was right, he was no killer¬— just a predator. It was easy enough to make him prey though.

Stiles never noticed the way Derek’s eyes lingered on him just a moment too long during and after meetings. After Lydia sweet-talked her way into Stiles’ bed, Derek’s eyes lingered on the bruises she left on his neck, were red-tinged when she dragged her nails down his arms. Jealousy made Derek forget to watch for other predators in his territory. 

  
~+~  


For such a small town, it was surprisingly easy to disappear people. Maybe not so surprising, though. Considering the high mortality rate, people tended to leave—flee— Beacon Hills. After a while it was hard to know who left and who remained. Those who remained weren’t always found.

With Allison gone, Scott tried so hard to bind the pack together. With Stiles scared of what could be lurking in the shadows, what could be lurking in the back of his mind, he normally stayed clear of the pack. Scott got absorbed in Isaac, Kira tried to find her place in the McCall pack… With all the confusion, it was easy to get Derek where Lydia wanted him.

~+~ 

It takes her time to learn how to use her voice to lull people into security; it takes less time to learn how to use her voice as a weapon. A shrill blast knocks Derek unconscious in the middle of the Hale house porch. It only took texting him from Stiles’ phone to get him there. Bathing in the blood of a once-Alpha, once-Omega, then-Beta sparks electric under her skin. Her body feels tight, too small. She thinks she sees blue flash in her eyes when she glances in the rearview window.

It’s raining when she gets home, she feels feral when she rips off her clothes and washes away Derek’s blood in the rain. It’s easy to cover the scent now, but she feels like howling. With a clap of thunder, she remembers herself and finds her way into the empty kitchen of her house, dripping away while she prepares a cup of coffee.

She tells Stiles she ran into Derek at the store, he looked like he was leaving again. Stiles told the rest of the pack. No one questioned her— out of the lot of them, Lydia Martin had nothing to hide. She was the one that needed help adjusting to the life of a supernatural creature.

The Sheriff gets caught up in a bank robbery (the town has had worse and worse luck these days), and if the bullet had been half an inch to the right, everyone would have talked about how lucky he was.

The funeral is small, and Stiles reeks of whiskey. The McCalls stand by him and say nothing. It’s easy to convince Scott that his best friend ran off— before the Sheriff died, Stiles got a lot of offers to big universities, full ride and everything. No one judges him for leaving.

Lydia dreams of darkness haunting her every step, of hyperfocus and underfocus. No one questions her beauty regimen, how she always looks so fresh. She’s untouchable.

~+~ 

Fifteen years later, an aspiring journalist comes to Beacon Hills hoping to document the Family. Cult pieces were out of style, but only one member of the Family had ever been confirmed alive, and she had never talked to anyone about it… But Beacon Hills being a small town, rumors travelled quickly. And far.  
Lydia Martin looks like any young woman her age. She’s into fashion, takes her job seriously, and tries to spend time with her friends. She’s also the only survivor of a massacre that took place over a decade or more. When I asked her about it, she goes quiet, visibly shinking into herself. She won’t tell me details, but alluded to a great evil in the area.  
“It was really a part of life… My parents were part of an inner-circle, so looking back…” she lets loose a soft and cynical laugh, “It wouldn’t sound real. I’m not sure how much were stories and how much was propaganda. This town has seen so much blood”  
see page 13 for the rest of this article

The young journalist notes that Lydia Martin lives in a large house, there’s pictures on the walls that look like they’re two decades old. He gets the sense she doesn’t have many friends in town. When he tries to ask about the history of the town in the gas station in the plaza, he’s quickly but politely turned away. Driving to the Martin estate, he passes a burnt-out house, a cross in the front yard:  
To the McCalls, and all other unfortunate souls: may you find more peace in the next life.

When the article is released, Lydia doesn’t see it. She’d left Beacon Hills almost the moment she was done with the interview, watching it shrink in the Camaro’s rearview window, her hair held down from whipping around by a blood red headband.

Starting again was the best part.

**Author's Note:**

> Lydia grew up in a cult and with Allison's death kinda becomes a serial killer.
> 
> prompt:  
> → the theme: running (to/from)  
> → so you have someone, are they running to something/someone or running from?
> 
> \- if it's fic, it can't be romantical, or if it is, there can't be a straight-forward ending


End file.
